


Pink Jumpers and Black Lace

by iihappydaysii



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan in 'women's' clothing, M/M, Sexual Content, a little hesitation around eschewing those roles, some discussion of gender roles/expectation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii
Summary: Not all of Dan's clothes come from the men's department.





	Pink Jumpers and Black Lace

**Author's Note:**

> Week #6 WaveydaysFICS: lingerie 
> 
> Please go check out waveydnp's fic on the same topic!

The bathroom door opened. Phil stepped barefoot into their bedroom. He adjusted the towel around his waist and looked up at Dan. “Are you wearing that?”

“Wearing what?” Dan adjusted his top. It was just a jumper—delicate, pastel pink with a cut that showed off his collar bones. It looked good on him. So what if it came from the women’s section. He liked it. 

Phil hesitated. “That jumper.”

“Yeah…why?” 

Phil hesitated again, this time for a little longer. “We’re going to see my parents.”

A little nervous roil bubbled up in his stomach. “So…?”

Phil ran a hand through his hair. It was still wet from the shower, the motion quiffed his hair over his glasses. It always made him look so much older. Not in a bad way, but today, it just reminded Dan that he _was_ older, a little more set in his ways maybe.

“Nothing.” Phil sighed. “I just really like how you look in that black one. You know the one you wore to Wimbledon.”

“Oh…” Dan said, a knot forming in his throat. “Yeah, I like that jumper too.”

Phil gave Dan the smallest smile and didn’t say anything else as he dropped the towel and began searching for his own clothes. He pulled on what he always wore. Black jeans and a bright t-shirt. He never really wanted to venture out beyond that—fashion wise—but Dan loved experimenting with all sorts of fashion, regardless of the gender it was intended for.

But Dan _was_ going to Phil’s parents and, as much as he loved the Lesters, they could be pretty traditional. They’d never been outright upset about Phil not being straight—about Dan—but he could sometimes tell they were uncomfortable, at least with how the two of them were being perceived. He was sure it would be harder for them if they actually had to introduce Dan as Phil’s partner to the neighbors or their friends. Dan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t actually know that’s how they’d react, so he shouldn’t find himself bristling right now, but he did. 

Dan pulled the pink jumper over his head and tossed it toward the mirror. He walked over to their closet and dug through his tops until he found the net jumper and put it on.

Phil, who’d sat down to work on his hair, looked at him, mouth fallen slightly open like he had something to say, but he never said it.

That was fine with Dan.

“When do we need to be at your parents’?” Dan asked.

Phil shrugged. “We need to leave in like half an hour.”

“All right,” Dan said and walked out of their bedroom, feeling tense and shitty. His morning was fucking ruined and Phil hadn’t even really said anything.

He didn’t fucking need to.

 

. . .

 

Dan held his dinner plate under a steady stream of warm water. The leftover crumbs cascaded off the ceramic and down the drain. He heard footsteps behind him but didn’t turn to see who it was.

A sharp chin fell on his shoulder and he glanced over to see a shock of red hair.

“Okay. Spill.” Cornelia lifted her chin off Dan’s shoulder and spun around to lean against the kitchen counter.

Dan sat his plate in the sink basin and turned toward her. “What?”

“You’ve been a grumpy gus all day. You said fuck in front of Kath and normally you act like you’re trying to win an award for Britain’s best son-in-law.”

Dan frowned. “Phil and I aren’t married."

Cornelia’s eyes widened and she lowered her voice “Now you definitely need to spill.”

He shot her a glare. “Corn—“

She put out her finger. “Sorta-Lester pact.”

“Ugh, Dan groaned. “You know how much wine we’d had when we made the Sorta-Lester pact?”

“Enough that I don’t remember how much wine we’d had, but that’s not the point. According to the rules laid down on that fateful, drunken evening, you have to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

That _was_ the first rule of the Sorta-Lester pact. He’d drunk-scrawled it out on a pad of hotel paper in the two-bedroom penthouse they’d rented in Florida, while Martyn and Phil were asleep. 

_Rule 1: Tell each other what the fuck is going on._

Dan started, “It’s noth—“

Cornelia gave him a look. “Howell, I swear to God.”

“I like to wear women’s clothes,” Dan blurted.

Corneila’s eyes widened and she stepped back and away from the kitchen counter, probably startled by the sheer volume. Dan hoped he hadn’t been loud enough to be heard outside the kitchen.

He lowered his voice. “Not like all the time, but sometimes. I don’t like my clothing choices to be controlled by my dick.” Dan shook his head and let out a breath. “I was wearing this pink ‘women’s’ jumper this morning and Phil—”

“He made you change?”

“He can’t make me do—”

“Fine.” Cornelia waved her hand in the air, like a dismissal. “He _asked_ you to, whatever. You know what I mean.”

“He didn’t really ask me to either, but I knew he wanted me to, you know. You know how you know.”

Cornelia nodded. “Oh, I know how you know.” She sighed. “Nigel _would_ have given you that look.”

“Rule 2, Corn. You have to be on my side.”

“I am on your side and, anyway, I’m pretty sure that’s Rule 3.”

Dan furrowed his brow. “Then, what’s Rule 2?”

“It’s the similarly priced gift rule.”

“Oh yeah.” Dan shrugged. “Anyway…that’s why I’m acting like a little shit today, okay? Sorta-Lester pact fulfilled.”

After a moment, Cornelia stepped forward and put a hand on Dan’s arm. “I know  this doesn’t fall strictly into the parameters of Rule 3, but give Phil a chance to come around. Talk to him about it. Seriously. Tell him that it means something to you and he’ll get his head out of his ass. It’s the Lester way.”

Before Dan could respond, Kath walked into the room. “You kids ready for dessert?”

 

. . .

 

“Dan, are you just going to stay mad at me all night?” Phil asked, as the door to the guest bedroom closed behind them. 

The bed squeaked when Dan sat down on its edge. He rubbed his tired eyes. “I’m not…I don’t want to talk about it here.”

Phil sat down beside him. “Yeah, well, what about not going to bed mad?”

“Phil…”

“Please, Dan. I know you’re upset with me and I really want you to talk to me about it so we can fix it.”

“Not everything can be fixed, Phil.”

Phil softly nudged Dan’s shoulder. “I don’t know. We’ve managed it so far.”

Dan cast a glance over his shoulder at Phil. This was just Phil. It was fine. He could talk to him about anything. He’d been talking to him about everything for years. “It’s just…you hurt my feelings this morning.”

Phil’s face scrunched up. “I did? I’m sorry. When did I—”

“It’s silly.”

“If it hurt you, it’s not silly.” 

Dan drew in a deep breath. “I just really wanted to wear that pink jumper today,” he rushed the words.

“Oh…”

“When you questioned it…I don’t know. It made me feel really weird and embarrassed.”

“I didn’t mean to…I just know…my parents. I mean, they love you, Dan. They love us together, but they’re still traditional, I guess.”

Dan leaned back on the bed. The beginning of a headache was pressing between his eyes. “I know.”

“It’s just my instinct, Dan. To avoid conflict.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Dan mumbled.

“No,” Phil said. “It doesn’t.” He let out a sigh. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know it mattered that much to you, but it’s still not an excuse.”

“I just worry sometimes that you’d think it was weird or like, I don’t know, not be into it.”

“It’s just a jumper,” Phil said.

Dan sat up, his stomach tight. “What if it’s not just a jumper.”

Phil set his mouth in a straight, serious line. “Dan…what are you trying to say?”

“Nothing. Not really. Just that sometimes I like to wear women’s clothes or paint my nails or whatever the hell else and I’d really like it if you didn’t have a problem with it.”

“I don’t,” Phil said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. About how what other people will say might affect you,”

Dan dropped his gaze. “I know.”

“But that’s all it is, Dan. Me worrying—like I do—about everything, especially you.” Phil smiled and said in a deep, low voice. “That jumper suited you. You looked beautiful, and that’s what I should’ve said to you this morning and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Dan leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder and Phil pressed a kiss to his hair.

“I love you forever, you know that?” Phil whispered. 

“I love you too, rat. Can we go to bed now?” Dan’s mouth stretched into a wide yawn. “I’m beat.”

 

* * *

 

After that, every time Dan wore something particularly feminine ( _though who decides what’s feminine,_ Dan thought) Phil would go out of his way to show Dan he liked it. There was a white blouse with lace cuffs that Phil said he looked lovely in. He complimented the pastel shade of pink Dan had started painting his toenails. Dan had some delicate rose earrings and few white gold necklaces and bracelets. Dan had also taken to occasionally brushing his cheeks with a light blush and, very occasionally, using a subtle matte lipstick. But, of all the feminine things Dan wore, he’d been putting off trying anything that went under his clothes or anything meant for the bedroom.

He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he wasn’t interested at all. He’d find himself glancing over at the satin and lace panties in the shops. He’d even find himself lingering a little too long on jewel-toned bras as he passed by them. Dan had just the barest amount of extra weight on his chest—a small bra might actually seem like it was doing something. But, he’d yet to try anything like that out, even though he wanted to.

Early one morning, someone buzzed their flat. 

Dan grumbled and pulled the pillow over his head. “What’d you order now? Another bloody houseplant?”

Phil sat up in bed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. I’ll get it.” He slid out from under the covers.

“Seriously?” Dan raised an eyebrow. Phil never got their early morning packages. Like ever.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” Phil said quickly.

“Okay…” Dan rolled over and pressed his face into the warm pillow. He was still sleepy and if Phil wanted to answer the door, Dan was more than happy to let him do that.

For the rest of the day, Phil was acting rather suspicious. When Dan asked about the package, Phil claimed it was just a bunch of socks, but Dan could always tell when Phil was lying. Still, he didn’t press it. Dan’s best guess was it had to do with some sort of weird video Phil was going to film and surprise Dan with. But as they tried to film a few gaming videos, Phil just seemed incredibly distracted, which wasn’t really like him. It was usually Dan who had trouble focusing.

When Phil zoned out in the middle of the Sims video they were filming and didn’t even notice the giant fire that had erupted, Dan paused the game.

“What’s up with you?” Dan asked.

“Huh.”

“Phil…seriously…a good portion of our bank account is about to go up in animated digital flame and you’re off staring into space.”

Phil shook his head. “Sorry…I…sorry.”

“It’s fine, but what’s going on.”

Following a moment of hesitation, Phil took a deep breath. “You know that package I got this morning.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s for you. Something that I bought for you…I was going to give it to you tonight, like after dinner, and I’m just nervous you’re not going to like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it? I always like your gifts.”

“It’s a little different. That’s all.”

“How so?”

Phil sighed. “I would just…I’d have to show you.”

Now, Dan was super curious. “Then show me.”

“I will, but you’re right. We currently need to save Dil’s life. I really want to go to Japan again.”

Dan laughed and turned back toward the computer screen. Now, Dan was going to be the one distracted with thoughts of whatever had arrived by post this morning. 

. . . 

 

“Will you give it to me now?” Dan asked, after scarfing down his dinner.

Phil chuckled. “Jeez, your impatient. It was your idea to keep to my idea of waiting until after dinner. Something about anticipation.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot you should know that by now.”

Phil stood up from the kitchen table and gathered up the dishes. “Oh, trust me, dear. I do.”

Dan shot him glare. “Just hurry up and show me what you got.”

“All right, all right.” Phil shook his head as he took the dishes into the other room. 

Dan sat impatiently, tapping his painted nails on the table top. 

When Phil came in with a white clothing box, his chin was tucked down toward his chest and there was a bit of pink on his cheeks. He sat the box down in front of Dan.

Dan reached out to open in and Phil but a hand on the box to stop him.

“Before you…” Phil let out a shaky breath. “Before you open it, I want you to know that’s it’s totally okay if you don’t like it or think it’s weird or don’t want to wear it. I can return it. It really won’t hurt my feelings, okay?”

“Okay, weirdo. Just lemme open it.”

Slowly, Phil pulled his hand away and, as soon as he did, Dan attacked the box. He pulled off the top and then folded back some white tissue paper to reveal black satin and lace.

Dan’s mouth dropped open, his eyes widening as he reached out to touch the fabric. “Phil…”

“Is it weird? I’m sorry if it’s weird. If I’m making you feel weird. I know you’ve never—”

“Phil, stop. It’s not weird. I don’t find it weird at all,” Dan said, distractedly. He lifted the first garment. It was a delicate mix of black satin and see-through lace. It was definitely women’s underwear. 

“I hope it fits, if you want to wear it, I mean…I wasn’t a hundred percent sure how your sizes translates to women’s sizes. Sizes really should be more universal.”

At this point, Dan found it best to just let Phil say what he needed to say and focus on the beautiful clothing in the box. The other item was…it was a bra. Two triangles of see-through lace, designed with tiny flowers. It had thin straps over the shoulders and around the back.

An image appeared in Dan’s mind. He was riding Phil, wearing this bra, one of his white gold chains, dangling down between make-shift cleavage as Phil slid a hand up his stomach, cupped his soft flesh through the thin fabric and called him beautiful.

_Fuck._

Dan could feel himself getting hard, his jeans growing tight.

“I know you don’t like actually have,“—Phil pointed to his nipples—“ _you know,_ but I think…God, I think you’d look incredible.”

Heat burned across Dan’s cheeks. He could feel his heart begin to pick up speed, his palms begin to sweat as his mouth began to go dry. He put his fingers underneath Phil’s dropped chin and pushed his face up so their gazes met.

“Can I go put them on?” Dan whispered.

Phil swallowed—Dan could see it in the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Fuck, yes.”

Dan grinned. Phil cursing always got Dan going. It was a sound reserved for sex. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Phil’s, a shiver of want rolling through his body at the familiar but never-boring sensation.

Dan gathered up the bra and pants. “Give me ten minutes and meet me in the bedroom.”

Phil bit his bottom lip and gave Dan an almost imperceptible nod. 

Dan shut his eyes briefly as he walked away. He couldn’t believe Phil had bought this for him. But, then again, he could. Phil had always been the best at buying Dan gifts.

 

. . .

 

Dan felt his first bit of hesitance the minute he closed the bedroom door behind him. Of  all the things he’d done, even for skits, Dan had never put on women’s underwear. He’d never felt the small, fragile lace and satin against his most private skin. And, as he stared at it all when he laid them out on the bed, his chest began to tighten. 

They were _so_ small and _feminine._ And he was _so_ big and a _dude._ Even if he didn’t get gender roles and gendered clothing. For him, personally, it didn’t translate to him not being a man. He was, you know, a man. And he wasn’t a small man by nearly any measure. He had big hands and broad shoulders. He had big thighs…oh God, these were going to look stupid on him, weren’t they?

Phil had this whole image in his head, probably, and even though Phil knew what Dan looked like naked, it didn’t matter. The fantasy Phil had cooked up in his head was almost certain to be a lot sexier than the reality of Dan stuffing his thick, lasagna noodle body into some beautiful and probably stupidly expensive lingerie.

Dan felt wet-warmth on his cheeks just as the bedroom door squeaked open.

“You ready, Dan?” Phil said quietly.

 _Fuck._ Ten minutes went by fast. 

Dan sniffed. “Yeah, just…hang on, okay.” 

“Dan? You sound…are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Dan tried to even out his voice, but he was sure it wasn’t working. Fuck, what was wrong with him? “No, I’m…I’m sorry.”

Phil walked into the room. “Dan, are you crying? Dan, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just an idiot, remember? We established that earlier.” He tried to laugh but it fell short.

“Please just tell me what’s wrong. If you don’t like them, it’s fine. It’s really fine.”

“I love them, Phil. I wanted…you always know what I want, but it’s just…what if I look ridiculous?”

Phil pulled back a little, a confused look on his face. “Not a chance.”

“You’ve seen me, right?”

“That’s my point, Dan.”

“ _Phil_.”

Phil put a hand on Dan’s cheek and rubbed his thumb over Dan’s cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful—it’s pretty damn crazy. Inside and out, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”

“But Phil I…”

“Can I ask you to trust me right now?”

“I always trust you.”

Phil got a serious look on his face as he gently said, “Take off your clothes.”

“What?”

“Take them off. Please.”

Dan let out a shaky breath and kept his eyes on Phil. He could trust Phil. He was safe with Phil—always. Without looking away, Dan tucked his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He let it drop to the floor. 

“Pick up the bra and put it on.”

“Phil, I don’t know…”

“If you can’t, it’s fine, but try and trust me.”

Dan didn’t know how to do a lot of things, but he knew how to lean on Phil was freaking out inside. “Okay."

Trembling, just a little, Dan picked the bra up of their bed. He slipped his arms through the straps and then reached around back to try and hook it together. He fumbled a few times. “I-I can’t.”

“You need to take it off?” Phil asked.

 _I don’t know._ “Just…I can’t get it hooked together.”

“It’s probably just because you’re shaking. Can I try?”

Dan nodded and turned around so his back was facing Phil. Phil’s cool fingers skimmed across his skin as they came to rest near the bra band. Dan felt the stretch around his ribs as Phil hooked the bra together. He dropped his hand away.

“Turn around,” Phil said, his voice its deep, natural low. 

Dan was a little slow to comply, but eventually he turned to face Phil again, his arms around his chest to hide where the lace was cupping and lifting the absolute barest hint of something like breasts. 

“Can I see?” Phil asked gently. “I’d really like to see.”

Dan hesitated, but slowly dropped his arms. 

Phil inhaled sharply and let out a barely audible. “Fuck, Dan.”

“Is it…how is it?”

“See for yourself.” Phil took Dan’s hand and led him the few feet over in front of the silver mirror. He let go of Dan’s hand. “Look.”

Dan did…and _shit_ he liked it. It was different, it was _definitely_ different, but it was a good different. The black lace looked nice against his pale skin and the way his hair was falling—and he had a little bit of that matte lipstick on.

“I look…I don’t look half bad.”

Phil stood behind Dan and slid hands around Dan’s waist as he peppered kisses on to his back and shoulders. His fingers teased around the bottom band then slid up between the cups. He softly tugged at the lace on the left cup. 

“Can I?” Phil asked.

“ _Please.”_

Phil let out a quiet moan as he cupped his hand over the lace and tugged at Dan’s nipple through the fabric.

Dan let out a little involuntary whine. “ _Phil.”_

“God, you have great tits,” Phil said.

And there it was. The Phil that could always knock Dan’s legs out from under him. Dark and sexy in a way that reminded Dan of lonely nights when Phil was just AmazingPhil and Dan was fucking himself on three of his own fingers, getting off to an impossible fantasy. 

“ _Phil.”_ God, was that all he could manage to say tonight?

“Take your jeans off,” Phil growled in his ear. “I want to see you put on the rest.”

. . .

 

It was pretty inexplicable how they got here. Dan on the edge of the bed, on all fours, the lacy pants Phil bought him dragged down and stretched out around his thighs. Phil behind him—a strong grip on Dan’s hips—as he fucked Dan hard enough to make Dan’s body shake.

Phil had dragged the grey mirror in front of the bed, and kept catching his reflection. The bra was still tight against his body, a cut of black lace across his pale skin. His curls were falling down over his forehead and bouncing with the force behind him.

“God, Dan,” Phil muttered. “Fuck. So good, baby. So good.”

Dan whimpered at the pet name. It wasn’t like Phil never called him things like honey…dear…baby. He did, but not often, and especially not when they were fucking. 

“Keep looking at yourself,” Phil said. “I want you to see it. See how gorgeous you are.”

“Jesus, Phil,” Dan said, but he did keep his eyes on his own reflection and on Phil looking tall and wrecked behind him.

Phil reached up and slid a hand into Dan’s hair. He pulled back on it, sending a wave of heat across his skin. 

“I’m so close. You already have me so close,” Dan said.

“Me too,” Phil mumbled as he wrapped his hand around Dan and began to slide up and down, up and down, until the motion was all Dan could think about. 

He could feel it building inside him—that intoxicating rush he craved so much. He was so full, so desperate to be fucked harder and faster that he pushed back against each of Phil’s thrusts. 

“Shit, fuck,” Dan blurted. “I’m gonna—”

His orgasm rolled through him—a familiar bliss—as Phil sped up and came deep inside him with a dark grunt. 

Once they caught their breaths and cleaned up, Dan crawled back into bed, without the bra, but still in the lace pants. He leaned over and kissed Phil. “Thanks. For letting me by myself, for helping me be myself.” His lips quirked into a small smile. “You know…you’re kinda alright.”

Phil laughed. “You’re not bad yourself.”

 


End file.
